


Baby It's Cold Outside

by W4nderingStar



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Baby It's Cold Outside, Fluff, It's a bunch of adorableness, Like, M/M, Sad old men, Slice of Life, Snow, Songfic, Winter fic, and maybe just a tear or two, because I can't stop myself, i can't think of any more tags, sad old dads
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-09-08 20:16:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8859523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/W4nderingStar/pseuds/W4nderingStar
Summary: I ought to say no, no, no - Mind if I move in closer?At least I'm gonna say that I tried - What's the sense in hurting my pride?I really can't stay - Baby don't hold outAh, but it's cold outside.Their song through the years.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Happy winter time everyone! I wish you the warmest of wishes for whatever holiday you partake in!
> 
> I wanted to take this time to say thank you to everyone for all your kind words and help! I've had such a wonderful experience that you've all made so lovely. You guys are the whole reason I write and post. Thank you so much.
> 
> This story now has inspired fan art! The lovely Aquavarin was finally convinced to draw boyscout Jack! And he's adorable!  
> http://aquavarin.tumblr.com/post/154890230060/very-much-inspired-by-w4nderingstarfanfics-r76

Jack had plenty of snow in just one of many Indiana winters to last him a lifetime. It wasn't like the movies where it would come down nice and slow. Nor did it levelly coat the ground where a few sweeps of a broom could clear a sidewalk. But watching the way Gabe stared at the flurry made Jack crack a smile. He looked like a little kid, watching wide-eyed as the flakes piled up and up.

 

“Think we'll get a snow day?” Gabe asked, his warm breath fogging the little window.

 

Jack shrugged. “Maybe. This front will probably drop a foot or two.”

 

“Two feet? We don’t even get two feet of rain in a year in LA.”

 

“That's hardly anything,” Jack told him. “Back home, if a blizzard dumped on us, we could get six or seven a night easy.”

 

“Shit.” Gabe's gaze had never left the window. “Who would have thought there could be so much snow?”

 

Jack chuckled, setting aside his empty cup. “Los Angeles' perfect weather made you soft, Gabe. Everyone knows snow's bad news.”

 

“But it looks harmless.”

 

Jack shook his head and chuckled. Let him think that a little longer. When everyone was on shoveling duty tomorrow he'd change his tune. “It is pretty.” And cold. Wet. Annoying. Deadly. Dangerous. He checked the holo-clock on the wall. “Shit. It's late.” He pushed himself up. “I gotta go.”

 

Gabe finally turned around. “Go where?”

 

Jack pulled on his SEP issue jacket. “Morning injections. They want my group to spend the night in the lab so they can take a baseline.”

 

“But the lab's on the other side of the compound,” Gabe said, stating the obvious.

 

“Every rookie knows that.”

 

Gabe looked at him like he'd said soccer wasn't a real spot (which Jack wasn't sold on just yet, but Gabe made a persuasive argument that was wearing him down). “You're going out? In that?” He hooked his thumb over his shoulder at the window.

 

“Yep.” Jack zipped up his jacket. “It's only the first storm of the season. I've walked in worse.”

 

“Just bunk here tonight,” Gabe said.

 

“I really can't stay,” Jack told him.

 

A smile curled across Gabe's lips. “But, baby, it's cold outside.”

 

Baby? When the hell had Gabe started calling him baby? “I've gotta go that way.”

 

“But, baby, it's cold outside,” Gabe said again, right on the heels of his sentence.

 

Jack cocked his head and arched an eyebrow. “Gabe, tonight has been—”

 

“Been hoping you'd drop in,” Gabe sang.

 

 _Sang_. Jack had never heard Gabe sing. It clicked so suddenly Jack felt stupid. He chuckled, shaking his head. He'd walked into it without thinking.

 

“Come on, _cariño_ ,” Gabe said, sliding off the bed away from the window. “Sing with me.”

 

“I'm not good,” Jack admitted.

 

“Who cares? It's just us.”

 

Jack took a breath. “This evening has been,” he sang as best he could.

 

“Been hoping you'd drop in.”

 

“So very nice.”

 

Gabe took Jack's hands in his, rubbing his thumbs over the rough, uneven knuckles. “I'll hold your hands, they're just like ice.”

 

Jack coyly took one hand back. “My mother will start to worry.”

 

“Beautiful,” Gabe sang, running the backs of his fingers against Jack's flushed cheek. “What's your hurry?”

 

Maybe it was the cocktail of drugs in his system, but Jack felt his inhabitants melt away. Gabe's gruff voice was so smooth, it bordered on a purr. And damn if it didn't send warmth flooding through every limb. “My father will be pacing the floor.”

 

“Just listen to that fireplace roar,” Gabe growled, his hand sliding down Jack's neck and side to his hip, fingers splaying.

 

“So really—” his voice almost broke as Gabe pulled him close, swaying them. “—I'd better scurry.”

 

“Beautiful—” Gabe put his lips to Jack's ear. “—please. Don't hurry.”

 

Jack shivered. Screw the doctors. As long as he was there in time for injections, that's all that mattered. “Well.” He unzipped his jacket, letting it fall to the floor. “Maybe just a shot or two more.”

 

“Put some records on while I pour,” Gabe said, picking up the half empty bottle of contraband tequila they'd been sharing.

 

“Baby it's cold outside,” they sang together, their voices mingling in not quite a perfect duet.

 

 

As Jack dug his fingers into Gabe's strong shoulder blades, their tequila soaked tongues tangling together in the dark of Gabe's quarters like their bodies, he realized, maybe a snow storm had some good qualities after all.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Jack kicked in the door to the abandoned cabin, nearly shattering the door frame. He swept the interior with the barrel of his pulse rifle. Nothing. He activated his targeting eye patch. Nothing on thermal or night vision.

 

“Clear,” he said, turning sideways, the razor-sharp wind slashing at his face and neck.

 

Gabe backed into the cabin, shotguns drawn, his arms shaking from the sub-zero temperatures. Once they were both inside, Jack slammed the door closed. In silence, they dropped their weapons and grabbed whatever broken furniture remained in the little cabin and reinforced the door.

 

Even through his long coat and the hard labor, Jack could feel the Siberian cold reaching into him, stealing precious warmth. He shrugged it off. Just another blizzard. He could handle it.

 

“F-Fuck,” Gabe stuttered off to his left. “C-Cold as b-b-balls.”

 

Jack left the battered remains of a couch that now braced the door and went to his commanding officer. Poor Gabe had to ditch the warm parka when an omnic nearly sliced him out of it. All he had to keep him warm on their mad dash through the Siberian wilderness was a thin hoodie and his stubbornness.

 

“Hey,” Jack said, putting his hand on Gabe's shoulder and turning him around.

 

The normally bronze skin was a blistering red from the wind. His lips were cracked, blood frozen before it could even seep out of the cuts, and his circle beard was white with snow. “You're freezing!”

 

“N-No s-shit,” Gabe stammered, rolling his bloodshot eyes even as his whole body trembled. “L-Lucky you're p-p-pretty.”

 

Jack was sure Gabe would never die. He'd be too stubborn even for Death to take. He grabbed his elbow, dragging him to the far side of the room, well away from the windows and door. “Keep moving,” he ordered.

 

“N-Not the b-boss here, M-M-Morrison.”

 

“Order me around when you're not shaking yourself apart.” He needed a fire going and fast. Gabe wasn't going to last much longer like this.

 

The cabin had a fireplace, but no wood. The only things to burn where the broken table, chairs, and couch they'd used to barricade the door. A slight tactical advantage, or his commanding officer's life. The choice was a simple one. Jack ripped the legs off the chairs, breaking the seats over his knee.

 

“W-What are y-you doing?” Gabe demanded. “P-Put those b-b-back!”

 

“All due respect, Gabe,” Jack said, carrying the bundle of wood to the fireplace and dumping it in. “Shut up and concentrate on keeping your blood moving.” He knelt, pulling a small fire starter from the back pouch on his belt. He flicked it on, holding it under the pile of wood. He'd sell his rifle for some goddamn kindling right now!

 

Painfully slowly, part of the wood caught. It seemed to take forever for it to grow into a proper fire, but finally, it did.

 

“Gabe, come here.”

 

Stiff legged, Gabe came over, shaking so bad Jack thought he might rattle right off his bones. Jack yanked off Gabe's cold, wet gloves and stuck the unsteady hands an inch from the fire. Gabe said nothing, too cold even for his trademark sass. Not good.

 

“Come on, Gabe. Talk to me.” Jack stripped off the hood, stiff with ice, pressing his own face to the cold cheek. “Call me a name. Tell me I'm stupid. Something.” He pulled off his own gloves, putting his warm hands on Gabe's cheek and neck. Jesus, he was cold as a corpse.

 

“O-Omnics s-should have a-attacked H-Hawaii,” Gabe said. “H-Heard i-it's b-beautiful this t-time of y-year.”

 

Jack sighed with relief. “Yeah. Next time we get leave, we'll go.”

 

Slowly, Gabe's hands lost their tremor and the blue receded from under his fingernails. He still wasn't in the clear yet. Jack stripped off the black hoodie, to much protesting.

 

“It's too wet to keep you warm.” He stripped off his own coat, laying both out by the fire to dry.

 

He pulled his compression shirt off, tugging on Gabe's. Stubborn bastard wouldn't let it go.

 

“C-Cold, j-jackass!”

 

“I'm trying to help.” He finally yanked the tight shirt off and then wrapped himself around the other, pulling Gabe's back to his chest.

 

“C-Captain M-Morison. Are y-you trying to s-seduce me?” Gabe chuckled.

 

“Body heat is absorbed better skin to skin, idiot.”

 

Gabe turned just enough to look over his shoulder. “If I k-kick it, you get p-promoted.”

 

He kissed Gabe's cold cheek. “I don't want you to die, _pendejo_.”

 

“Y-You're getting b-better,” Gabe said, relaxing against Jack.

 

Slowly, the trembling stopped. The freezing air of the cabin warmed to where it was more or less pleasant, if you had a shirt on. But Jack rather preferred to have Gabe instead of a shirt. He nestled his cheek against the cold beanie, rubbing every part of Gabe's chest he could to warm him up. Finally, he felt Gabe's breath even out and the tremors slow.

 

“Gonna live?”

 

“Yeah,” Gabe said, tired, defeated. “Fuck, I hate snow.”

 

“Coming from the man that stared at it half the night back in SEP.”

 

“Never saw it before then,” Gabe defended, pulling his hands away from the fire to hold Jack's arms. “Think the chopper took off before the storm?”

 

Jack nodded. “Yeah. No way Ana would allow herself to get stuck in a snowstorm.” He chuckled. “I bet she and Torbjörn had to haul Reinhardt inside because he wanted to go make snow angels or something.”

 

“Crazy, snow-lovin' bastard,” Gabe sighed.

 

They were quiet a long time. Jack kept rubbing some warmth into Gabe's cold torso.

 

“Think it'll let up?” Gabe asked.

 

Jack shrugged. “Sometime.”

 

“Will it bury the door?”

 

“The whole cabin at the rate it's going.”

 

Gabe let his head fall back against Jack's shoulder. “No rations. No water. Buried alive. This is a pretty shitty way to go.”

 

“I've got a couple MRE's in my pack,” Jack said. “Snow melts into water. We can hold out a few days.”

 

Gabe turned his head, nuzzling into the nape of Jack's neck. “Just admit that you were a boy scout already. You're not fooling anyone.”

 

“Don't have to be a boy scout to be prepared for anything,” Jack countered.

 

“Mmm.”

 

Jack felt Gabe's cracked lips quirk into a smile.

 

“The neighbors might think,” he sang, his voice weak.

 

“Baby, it's bad out there,” Jack sang back, swaying them in front of their little fire.

 

“Say, where's my fucking drink?”

 

Jack chuckled at Gabe's demand and shook his head. “No cabs to be had out there.”

 

“I wish I knew how.” Gabe reached a hand up, running the backs of his fingers over Jack's cheek.

 

Jack kissed them, mumbling his verse into the cold, calloused palm. “Your eyes are like starlight now.”

 

“To break this spell.”

 

“I'll take your hat—” Jack slid his hand up, pushing the beanie off and letting the ebony curls free. “Your hair looks swell.” He ran his fingers through them.

 

Gabe brushed his hand away. “I ought to say no, no, no, sir.”

 

“Mind if I move in closer?” Jack kissed Gabe's neck, letting his hands wander down to the taut abs.

 

Gabe groaned, his back arching. “A-At least I'm gonna say that I tried.”

 

“What's the sense of hurting my pride?” Jack smiled into Gabe's neck, feeling his pulse flutter faster under his lips.

 

“I really can't stay,” Gabe gasped, lifting his hips.

 

“Baby,” Jack purred, “don't hold doubt.”

 

“Oh but it's cold outside,” they sang as one, voices hushed and tired.

 

 

Three days later, when Reinhardt dug them out almost single handedly, Jack was tired and a little undernourished, but again marveled at how getting trapped in a blizzard wasn't so bad when Gabe was with him.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Snow slowly floated down outside the huge floor-to-ceiling windows. Swiss HQ was decked out to the nines with tinsel and wreaths. There must have been hundreds of miles of colored lights strung through the halls and common rooms. Champagne flowed freely. Perhaps a little too freely, judging by Lena and Angela's red cheeks and exuberant giggles as they mingled throughout the room. Dozens of brilliantly decorated packages waited under the twenty-foot tree that sparkled with gold and red ornaments. Fresh pine mixed with warm gingerbread and peppermint.

 

Idly, Jack rolled the stem of his champagne glass between his thumb and forefinger. Earlier, he'd declared them “snowed in,” putting a stop to all but emergency operations so everyone could enjoy a holiday party.

 

It felt odd, being stuck in the snow without Gabe. He stopped rolling his glass. Everything felt odd with Gabe lately. There'd been a... strain on their relationship ever since the promotion. There would be days, sometimes weeks, he wouldn't see him. In fact, he was still out on a mission that should have only taken a few days. If Gabe's initial report was to be believed. At least, Jack hoped Gabe was still on mission and not avoiding him.

 

Maybe with it being the holidays, they could patch their relationship back together. It was worth a shot.

 

“Well damn!” came a familiar drawl. “Ain't this a sight for sore eyes!”

 

Jack turned in his seat in time to watch Jesse McCree plop himself down in the chair beside him. He was still clad in his uniform and body armor. Maybe they'd just returned home.

 

“Whoowee!” the would be cowboy said, tipping his hat back. “That's one mighty fine tree, Boss! You chop it down yourself?”

 

“Reinhardt. I helped,” Jack said, looking past Jesse for his commander. There was no black-clad shadow anywhere. Jack's heart dropped into his stomach. He put his Strike Commander mask back on and forced himself to casually sip his drink. “The mission?”

 

“It went,” Jesse said. “Hot damn, I could use a drink.”

 

Jesse's diversion tactic didn't fool Jack in the slightest. He was used to dragging the truth from the master of diversion tactics. He opened his mouth to demand a full report when someone wrapped their warm arms around his neck. For a breath, he thought it was Gabe.

 

“Daaad,” Lena slurred in his ear. Or rather, half in his ear, half in his temple.

 

“Lena,” Jack said, trying to untangle the little Brit's arms from around him. “I'm not your father. And you've had enough.”

 

“Yeah, well I haven't,” Jesse said, prying the champagne glass out of her fingers and downing it.

 

“Oi!” Lena snapped. “That was mine!”

 

“You want it back?” Jesse said, wiggling his eyebrows. “I could barf it back up for ya.”

 

“Ew! You're gross! Dad, Jesse's being gross.”

 

Jack pinched the bridge of his nose. Teenagers. “I'm not your father, Lena.”

 

“You're being a girl,” Jesse said, tipping his chair back onto two legs and reaching over to the table behind him, sneaking two full glasses from Torbjörn's pile of them. They were empty almost before the chair was back on four legs.

 

So much for Jack getting a mission report from the kid. “Don't go crazy,” Jack told him.

 

Jesse wiggled his eyebrows. “Thought you said you weren't our dad?”

 

“But he acts like it!” Lena chuckled, tightening her arms around his neck again. “I love my Overwatch dad!” She planted a sloppy kiss on his temple. “He cares so much and always watches out for us and makes sure he has enough batonic emerssers for us all.”

 

Batonic emerssers? Lena was well and truly three sheets to the wind.

 

“I love him even if he says weird things from back in the olden times.”

 

Jack snorted. “I do not say weird things.” And he was slightly insulted by “olden times.” He wasn't too far past forty.

 

“Damn kids! Get off my lawn!” Jesse grunted, lowering his voice and trying to make it rumble.

 

Lena dissolved into a fit of giggles.

 

Jack shot Jesse a glare. “I do not say that.”

 

“You want something done right,” Lena rasped, her voice nowhere near low enough to mimic him. “You gotta do it yourself.”

 

“Stay frosty,” Jesse added, another glass of champagne in his hand from who knew where.

 

“An eye for an eye,” Lena grunted.

 

“Back in my day, we'd have this payload delivered already!” Jesse thumped his fist on the table.

 

“Tactical visor ready for deployment!” Lena scowled, putting her finger to her temple.

 

“Commander Reyes.” Jesse added a sultry tone to his attempt at a rumble. “My office. Now!”

 

“Enough,” Jack sighed. “I get it.”

 

“Sing with me,” Lena quipped. “If you sing with me we'll stop.”

 

“Speak for yourself,” Jesse said, downing a fifth glass. “This is fun.”

 

“I simply must go,” Lena sang, surprisingly sober sounding. Her S didn't slur at all like it had on “emerssers.”

 

“Not that one,” Jack said, a pang of longing shooting through him.

 

“Come on, Dad,” Lena begged. “Please! It's my absolute favorite song.”

 

“And it's cold as fuck out there,” Jesse added.

 

“McCree. Language,” Jack ordered.

 

“Sorry, boss. Cold as shit out there.”

 

“Not better.”

 

“Pleeeease?” Lena squished her cheek against his. “For meeee?”

 

“The answer is no.”

 

“Hey,” Lena whined. “That's my verse! You sing the baby it's cold outside part.”

 

Jack sighed. He'd walked into that one. “Fine. One verse. That's all.”

 

Lena squealed and collapsed in his lap, arms still wrapped around his neck. “I simply must go.”

 

It was too weird to call the teen “baby.” Jack shifted uncomfortably. “Lena, it's cold outside,” he sang softly, so no one else could hear.”

 

“Louder, Dad! The answer is no!” she held the O for several seconds and Jesse howled along with her like a coyote.

 

“Lena, it's cold outside.”

 

“The welcome has been so nice and warm.” She skipped over his line entirely.

 

“Look out the window at that storm,” Jack added, if only so she couldn't admonish him for not singing.

 

“Angie will be suspicious,” Lena giggled, changing up the words, just like Gabe had done.

 

“Gosh,” he muttered the rest of the line under his breath.

 

“Winston will be at the door.”

 

“Waves upon a tropical shore.”

 

“Ana's mind is wicked vicious.”

 

“Gosh your lips....” he trailed off awkwardly. Lena was young enough to really be his daughter. He'd rather be singing those lines to Gabe.

 

“But maybe just a few bottles of champagne more!” Lena finished her verse on a drawn out high note, kicking a leg up like a dancer. Jesse yipped and howled along with her. “Come on, Dad! Baby it's cooold ooout-siiide!”

 

Though Lena's flailing arms and Jesse drunkenly telling her she was drunk, Jack caught a glimpse of a shadow moving across the brightly lit room.

 

Jack's heart thudded when Gabe stopped at the doorway. He glanced back. The gaze he leveled at Jack made the room darken and the warmth leave Jack's body.

 

He lowered his gaze from the fury in those dark eyes and stared at the hastily patched up cut on his cheek. How long had he been in the room? Had... had he purposely kept his distance? Gabe turned away and left without a word.

 

“You two should call it a night,” Jack said as all the holiday spirit drained out of him.

 

“But we still have another verse to sing!” Lena protested.

 

“Jesse will sing it.” Jack got up, depositing her into his vacated seat. “I have something I need to do.”

 

Before she or Jesse could protest, he moved off, following Gabe. He made it into the hall to see Gabe's retreating form at the far end.

 

“Gabe!”

 

The other kept walking. He didn't even slow down as he rounded a corner out of sight. Jack leaned his shoulder against the wall, exhausted, drained. He put his arms around himself to fend off the sudden chill.

 

 

Forget outside. Nothing was colder than being in Gabriel Reyes' bad graces.

 

 

 

 

 

 

“We are not leaving without you!” Lena shouted over the com.

 

76 tapped the override code for the plane's autopilot into the command room's main computer. “No time.” The storm was rolling in. He might not be in charge anymore, but he'd be damned if he let a bunch of rookies die because he wasn't fast enough. He punched the override button on the console and watched the holo-projection of the plane as it took off.

 

“We're coming back,” Lena snapped. “As soon as the autopilot switches off—”

 

“You'll come back when the storm has blown itself out,” 76 ordered. “The cowboy needs that leg looked at and the cyborg needs his arm reattached.”

 

“Stay inside,” Lena ordered him right back. “Don't be stupid. Shut down whatever power you don't need and find all the blankets.”

 

“It's just a little snow, kid. I've been through worse.” He shut off the coms before she could argue more.

 

Quickly, he shut down the power to parts of the Ecopoint that he wasn't going to need. Labs, research, staging area, hanger. He left the control node and living quarters powered and initiated emergency protocols. Hopefully the generators would hold out, or this place would turn into an icebox and him a popsicle.

 

Like a dying thing, the steady background hum cut out, section by section. 76 watched as the map of the Ecopoint went dark. Block by block, the darkness encroached on the node he was in until it was the only lit point on the entire map.

 

The comforting hum of the lights diminished, nearly inaudible. It was almost creepy. Being in an abandoned Ecopoint, silent and dark. Sure, there might be some Talon thugs around. But not for long if they were in places where the power was off.

 

Shouldering his heavy pulse rifle, 76 left the console and went to the door leading outside. It was locked, of course, and nothing short of a nuclear blast would open it until the emergency protocols were removed. He should feel safe. But the towering wall of white bearing down on the little research installation made him think twice about his place in the world.

 

Enhanced speed, strength, reactions. But there was nothing he could do against the fury of an angry planet. Through the red-orange tint of his visor, he watched as the storm came howling down on the Ecopoint like a ravenous beast. White blotted out the blue sky as the wind tore through the air, ripping up the once peaceful world. The wind blasted the door so hard the reinforced glass shuddered and groaned mournfully. 

 

The lights flickered ominously and dimmed. It wasn't warm by any stretch of the imagination, but a bead of sweat still rolled down the back of 76's neck. It'd be a shitty way to go, hiding in a Ecopoint, done in by snow. Granted, it was a metric shit-ton of snow, but still snow.

 

Dying... well, he'd come to terms with his mortality long before. And then faced it six years ago. Biting the dust wasn't the hard part. It was all the stuff left undone. All the things still left to do. Or correct. There were too many questions he didn't have the answers to. Too many scumbags still out there, getting away with bringing down the organization that was meant to protect people. He didn't want to die. Not yet. And not by snow.

 

The lights flickered again. Were the generators failing already? He set his rifle down, leaning it against the wall as the wind wailed. Slowly, he put his hand to the visor and face mask. The release latch clicked and he pulled the mask away. The world went from red-orange to gray.

 

How many years had it been since he was trapped in the snow? A decade? Two? He could almost taste the forbidden tequila on his tongue, feel the dark curls against his cheek.... He clenched his hands into fists. He could still hear the bootfalls echoing through the empty hall as Gabe walked away. Funny how something as harmless looking as snow could do so much damage.

 

With a sigh, 76 leaned against the door, resting his forehead on the cold glass. So much had changed. He and Gabe—sorry, Reaper—were on opposite sides of a war now. 76 wasn't sure the world could handle that. Just look what one of their arguments had done. But ever since they'd both come back from the metaphorical dead, Gabe had stayed away. They'd traded bullets, not words.

 

Not that 76 could blame him. The last time.... he sighed. He'd failed Gabe the last time and look where it'd got him. It was little wonder his former friend, former lover, wouldn't get close. He’d been hurt too much. A man could only take so much, and no matter how great a man he had been, Gabe was still only a man.

 

The words to their song floated to the forefront of his mind. He hadn't sang it since the night Gabe had stormed out. But if the generators gave.... might as well go out with a song.

 

He cleared his throat, the sound ringing off the walls in the silence. A tingle of apprehension ran up and down his spine. Why was he self-conscious? There was no one else here. He sagged against the door.

 

“I gotta get home.”

 

“But, baby, you'd freeze out there.”

 

76 whipped around, rifle back in his hands and leveled at the opposite side of the room. It was just a patchwork of unmoving shapes. An inky shadow swirled among the gray. It rose off the ground, becoming a slash of black.

 

“You got old.”

 

76 kept the rifle level. Were they were going to trade words or rounds?

 

The shadow shifted unnaturally fast, disappearing and then reappearing further away. When there was no roar of shotguns, he lowered the rifle a fraction. “You took up smoking.”

 

Gabe didn't reply. Their days of banter were over. 76 set the rifle aside again. If Gabe was going to kill him, he wouldn't have announced his presence and then not followed it up.

 

“You get stuck too? Or just keeping an old ghost company?” He turned back to the door, slipping the visor and mask back on. The world came back into focus, the grays turning orange.

 

“Some fool turned off the power. I had nowhere else to go.”

 

The statement lacked the now familiar harshness. 76 tilted his head just enough to see the other out of the corner of his eye. In spite of everything, Gabe hadn't changed too much. He still dressed in black, had too many belts, and still wore a familiar hood. Loneliness panged through him. While their world had crumbled and been rebuilt around them, they seemed almost unchanged. Still stubborn fools, still not speaking, still content to put a battlefield between them rather than deal with their issues.

 

“I'm tired, Gabe,” 76 sighed. “If you're here to fight, let's get it over with.”

 

There was no response. His skin prickled as a whisper of movement came closer. 76 turned his head again, watching as Reaper rematerialized at the bank of computers. 76 tensed. Was he going to try and lift the protocols? Open the door? Kill the generators?

 

“I'm tired too,” Gabe said.

 

76 turned, putting his back to the wall so he could face his once-lover. “Most civil words we've said to each other in years.” Most words at all, actually.

Gabe turned his face away as the lights went out for a second, then came back on. 76 sighed again. He was doing that more and more as he got older. “Who would have thought there could be so much snow, right?”

 

The bone-white mask turned to regard him. “Everyone knows snow's bad news. You taught me that.”

 

They were quiet a while. 76 gathered his nerve. If the power went, he didn't want to have one more regret on the pile of them he'd take to his icy grave. He took a breath. “I gotta get home,” he sang softly, voice rough with disuse.

 

Silence hung between them and the white mask gave away nothing. 76 covered the slump in his shoulders by turning to look out the door again. That was that then. The chasm wasn't bridgeable.

 

“But, baby,” came the soft response, “you'd freeze out there.”

 

76 looked over his shoulder. Gabe took a hesitant step forward. The silence between them now felt expectant, both of them waiting for a signal to continue.

 

“So lend me your coat.” His singing voice had never been good.

 

“It's up to your knees out there.” Gabe's voice too had changed, the mask adding a distorted edge to it.

 

76 pushed off the wall and stepped closer. Gabe tilted his head, shoulders turning ever so slightly, weight shifting to the balls of his feet, ready to run. 76 turned his palms up in front of him to show he wasn't a threat. Carefully, he closed the gap between them. Gabe stayed, tension still winding him so tight 76's shoulders ached in sympathy. His hands cupped the cheeks of the white mask. Slowly, he shifted it up.

 

Gabe's hands took hold of his wrists and stopped him. 76 let his hands uncurl from the mask. One clawed hand let go and reached for the visor. 76 let it trace his cheek, a silver claw pressing on the release latch. With a click, it snapped free and Gabe removed it. Soldier 76 came away with the mask, leaving only an old, tired Jack Morrison blinking his near useless eyes at the white and black shape before him.

 

The other clawed hand let Jack's go. Slowly, Jack pushed the white mask up into the hood and then traced his fingertips along the face he couldn't see.

 

“You've really been grand,” Jack continued, letting his fingers linger on the lips a moment before removing them.

 

“I thrill when you touch my hand.” The silver claws wrapped gently around Jack's right hand.

 

“But don't you see?”

 

“How can you do this thing to me?”

 

Gabe slid closer, putting his other arm around Jack's waist, hand on the small of his back. Jack leaned against him, draping his free arm around Gabe's neck.

 

“There's bound to be talk tomorrow.”

 

“Think of my lifelong sorrow.”

 

Gabe stepped to the left, Jack following, swaying into a slow dance.

 

“At least there will be plenty implied.”

 

“If you caught pneumonia and died.”

 

Jack's heart pounded, his fingers digging into the black armor. “I really can't stay.”

 

Gabe brushed the back of his fingers against Jack's scarred cheek. “Get over that old doubt.”

 

He leaned in. Jack met him halfway. Gabe’s cold lips tasted like ash. Nothing had ever tasted so sweet. They broke apart, foreheads resting against each other’s.

 

“Baby it's cold, baby, it's cold outside,” they sang in unison, their voices blending together in a beautiful duet.

 

 

Two days later when the rag-tag group of kids returned, they found 76 in good spirits. He even whistled a Christmas song as he boarded the plane.

 

Jesse and Lena traded confused looks, but said nothing as they took off.

**Author's Note:**

> This will probably be the last update for a while. I plan on doing Reaper76 week, and I have to focus on a lot of projects for that! So please enjoy and come back January 15th for a (hopefully) week of goodness!
> 
> If anyone was interested, I started a Tumblr for my fics, https://www.tumblr.com/blog/w4nderingstarfanfics that I will try to update along side Ao3 if that make it easier for anyone! (also I share reaper76 pics on there)


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